Sable Civil War Negroes behind closed hatches, ragged souls, tattered bodies banging on the walls.

Each starless auricle prays while pounding stormily beneath the charred faces strapped in manacles; stroke, stroke by on splintered ships. Continents remind me of the desert home, Now darken hollowno way to weigh the naked flicks of day. I am Sunk and sunken bodies collide as the undertow's slaves becoming a chain link fence of things limited. We are made of salt water's spill and I am Africa drowning.

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